


In Your Dreams (I See You)

by Avengers_Whore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Artist Peter Parker, Blood and Injury, Daddy Kink, Dark Tony Stark, Domestic Fluff, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Fluff, Horror Artist Peter Parker, M/M, Minor Violence, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Nail pulling, Torture, Twink Peter Parker, Violence, a little bit, idk what else to tag, like light torture, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avengers_Whore/pseuds/Avengers_Whore
Summary: Ever since he was little, he’d been having dreams of things his soulmate had seen. They used to scare him, he would mistake them for simple nightmares and run to his aunt and uncle’s room crying.Now he was painting the scene of an alley somewhere in the dark part of some busy city. The concrete floor and the brick walls were splattered in blood and he was currently working on painting out the victim’s body.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 401





	In Your Dreams (I See You)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this has been sitting in my Google Drive for awhile. I know some of you expressed some interest in this when I talked about it in one of my other works so here it is - the Starker Soulmate/Mob AU!
> 
> I made my friend choke with this story. She asked, "Smutty?" and I replied, "No. ...Bloody." just as she was taking a sip of her soda. She was like, "poor Peter," and I was like, "nah he's into it!" and she choked again. It was hilarious.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Peter wiped his arm across his forehead before bringing the brush back to the canvas, making quick strokes across the painting he was deeply concentrated on. It wasn’t unusual for him to be lost to his art. He often woke up in the middle of the night with new inspiration, a new vision he’d dreamt of and just had to put on canvas.

Ever since he was little, he’d been having dreams of things his soulmate had seen. They used to scare him, he would mistake them for simple nightmares and run to his aunt and uncle’s room crying. Now, though, now he put the horrific scenes on display in his gallery.

He didn’t know if he was trying to draw his soulmate to him or just put the scenes on canvas for the hell of it. Horror art wasn’t a very common genre but he’d revamped the whole thing since he started painting at 14 years old.

Now he was painting the scene of an alley somewhere in the dark part of some busy city. The concrete floor and the brick walls were splattered in blood and he was currently working on painting out the victim’s body. He took a sip from his coffee cup and went back to painting, changing brushes to start working on the finer details.

He was so lost in the painting he didn’t hear his apartment door open and shut, nor the footsteps coming up behind him.

“How long this time?”

Harry.

“3 am? I don’t know,” Peter replied absently, getting impossibly close to the canvas to paint out the victim’s lifeless eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon. Come on, Pete, let’s put the brush down and eat something,” Harry said, walking over to stand beside the lithe brunet. His best friend eyed the painting critically, face going a little green when he took in all of the details. “Jesus, Peter.”

“I don’t have time to eat, I gotta finish this. I don’t wanna lose the flow,” Peter muttered, licking his upper lip and wiping his brow again. He knew he was probably covered in paint and his hair was probably sticking up in all sorts of directions.

“You do this every time, Pete. Please eat?”

“No. This is the last piece before my next show, I’ll eat after I’m done. I love you, but if you’re just gonna complain then leave,” the brunet grunted, sparing a moment to glare at his best friend before turning back to his hard work. He changed brushes once more to color in the man’s skin.

Harry huffed but he didn’t leave. He just went to the kitchen to start making something for the pair to eat since he could see his friend was almost done with his latest piece. This new collection was a large one, a total of 20 pieces for the brunet to show in his upcoming gallery. The collections kept getting bigger and bigger and Harry knew Peter was desperate to find whoever was seeing these scenes firsthand.

And he couldn’t help but worry for when that time came.

He knew that his best friend’s soulmate had to be some kind of serial killer. Some psychopath that would inevitably hurt Peter. Peter was...naive, blinded by his want to meet this stranger who was obviously deranged in all sorts of ways. He had tunnel vision for this and Harry didn’t know what to do about it.

An hour passed and Peter made his way into the kitchen, putting his mug into the sink and falling into a chair at the table. He laid his head down on the table and sighed tiredly, his eyes closed tight. He looked when a plate was placed in front of him and he smiled tiredly at his best friend.

“Sorry for snapping earlier. I know you’re just a mother hen,” the brunet murmured, picking up the fork and digging in to the spaghetti sat before him. Harry sat down across from him and ate his own portion of spaghetti.

“No, I know better than to antagonize you mid-painting. All done?” Harry asked.

“All done. Just have to organize all of them and then have them transported to the gallery,” Peter told him with a smile. “I hope this is it. I hope he comes.”

“He? How do you know?”

“I saw his clothes last night. Very classy, clean, expensive, three-piece suit.”

“So he’s rich too.”

Peter nodded his head and finished up his spaghetti. He looked over at Harry and smiled softly at him, though his eyes had confusion in them.

“Harry...what do you see at night? What does your soulmate see?”

“Not dead people, that’s for sure,” Harry replied with a dry laugh, ducking the question like he always did. The brunet sighed softly and shook his head with a soft laugh.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I know some people like to keep what they see a secret,” Peter told him with a shrug. He still had a smile on his face, completely understanding of his best friend.

“Maybe one day, Pete.”

-

Tony hummed softly as he did up the buttons of his shirt, deep in thought as he stared at his dresser. He couldn’t help but think about the dream he’d had last night, one of many that gave him glimpses into his soulmate’s life. His Peter.

He’d had dreams of Peter for years now, since the boy was old enough to remember things and dream about them. He wondered what parts of his own life his soulmate saw, if he saw the day time or if he saw the horrific nighttime. He took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeves before leaving his bedroom.

The man made his way to the dining room where he found the whole family eating breakfast at the table. Everyone looked over when he entered and gave him some form of acknowledgement before returning to their conversations. He walked over to the head of the table and kissed Pepper’s cheek before sitting next to her.

“There you are. You need to find a new suit, we’re going to an art gallery this weekend,” the redheaded woman told him, handing over the invitation to let the man look it over.

“Why me? You have a husband,” Tony grunted as he looked over the invitation.

“Because you’re the one with the money and the space for my growing art collection,” Pepper told him, taking a delicate sip from her coffee. Jarvis came over and set a plate in front of Tony, along with a mug filled with coffee.

“I knew you stayed for a reason. Thank you, J,” Tony said, smiling up at his long-time family butler.

“You’re very welcome, sir,” Jarvis murmured with a fond smile.

“Steve, Bucky, how did patrol go last night? Anything to report?”

“Nope, all was quiet, Tones. Everyone paid up when we showed up,” Bucky reported, taking a bite of his toast. “Everything’s in yer office.”

“Along with reports of people dealing on our turf,” Steve piped in, smirking over at Bucky.

“I trust you sent them on their way then. Pepper, how’s my day job?” Tony asked, turning back to the woman.

“You have to ask? Just check the stocks in the newspaper, honestly Tony.”

“I like asking. I like hearing your lovely voice over everyone else’s, save Nat,” the brunet told her with a smirk, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Flatterer,” Natasha murmured as she entered the dining room. “I’m coming to the gallery.”

“And why is that?”

“My favorite horror artist will be there. I want one of his pieces,” the woman told him with a smile, kissing his cheek before taking her seat next to Bucky.

“You ladies are expensive and I don’t even get a soul match out of either of you,” Tony complained with a small pout. Everyone around the table chuckled before going back to their meals.

-

Tony smirked winningly at the cameras as he walked towards the gallery, Pepper and Natasha on each arm. Both of the redheads were stunningly dressed for the formal event and much taller than him in their killer heels, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was just enjoying the attention, like always.

The trio entered the building and made their way around, looking at the different pieces. Pepper put a few bids down on the pieces that were being auctioned off, not even batting an eye at the amount of money each piece was going for. Tony didn’t even bother to look since it wouldn’t make a dent in his fortune.

Either of them.

The three of them were about to walk passed a specific painting when Tony came to a sudden stop and looked at the piece, eyes wide. For once in his life, he was left speechless.

“Natasha. Natasha, the painting-”

“You did that just last week,” Natasha hissed, her eyes narrowed as she studied the work. Every detail was perfect, right down to the splatters of blood on the pavement. “No one should know about that, least of all some artist.”

“Unless it’s- who’s the artist?” Tony asked, letting going of the girls and stepping forward to look at the nameplate. He noticed several other paintings that depicted his own crimes and his face paled further. Until he saw the name.

Peter Parker.

He didn’t know if his soulmate’s last name was Parker but…

“It has to be. It’s my Peter,” the brunet murmured, eyes wide with awe as he looked over the details.

“He’s the horror artist I was telling you about at breakfast,” Natasha told him, still frowning. “I fell in love with one of his older pieces but I never realized the scenes were our doing until this collection.”

“Where is he? I need to find him,” Tony told her, looking around for the artist.

“Tony, what are you gonna do?” Pepper asked, obviously concerned.

“I’m gonna kiss him and then ask him to move in!”

And then the brunet was gone, off looking for the artist in question. Natasha rolled her eyes and hooked her arm through Pepper’s.

“He doesn’t even know what Peter looks like,” the darker redhead murmured, writing a bid next to the piece and then moving on. Pepper shook her head slightly and followed after the other woman.

Meanwhile Tony was making his way through the crowd, asking around for Peter. The longer it took, the more anxious he became. He went and got another drink, leaning on the bar and taking a sip.

“I hear you’ve been looking for me, Mr. Stark.” Tony whipped around and stared wide-eyed at the younger man standing next to him.

“Mr. Parker. Yes, I have, I was hoping we might be able to discuss some of your work in private.”

“I didn’t know you were so interested in art,” Peter murmured, a small quirk of a smile on his face. The pair walked together towards the back of the gallery where there were fewer people. “I hear your art collection actually belongs to Miss Potts.”

“That’s correct but I find myself drawn to your work,” Tony told him, looking over his shoulder at one of the pieces now. He recognized it from a month and a half ago, a man who tried to kill Natasha and paid the price. The ultimate price.

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s mine.”

“You- what? I don’t understand…” Peter breathed, his brow furrowing and his smile dropping. “Your… are you…?”

“I’ve never seen your face but I’ve seen the paint staining your hands,” Tony murmured, taking the younger brunet’s hands in his own. Even now, there was paint stuck under his fingernails. “Or your friends. I’ve seen your apartment, your doodles, everything but your face.”

“I-I’ve only ever seen your suits. And the, um, the… yeah,” the younger told him, his face turning a light shade of pink. “Stark Industries by day and…”

“The Carbonell family. Inherited from my mother,” the older man explained to him with a roguish smile. He pulled the shorter brunet closer and boldly pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Be mine, Peter.”

“M-Mr. Stark…”

“Tony. Call me Tony, honey.”

“Tony, then. Are you...sure? I’m just… I’m nobody,” Peter murmured, looking at the man’s chest. His cheeks were a bright pink from how close they were and the kiss to the his cheek.

“Bullshit. You’re my soulmate,” Tony argued with a furrowed brow, a frown on his face. “You’re in my dreams every night, I see whatever you saw.”

“Me too. And I just, I _have_ to paint it, I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t,” the younger man told him, glancing up at him shyly. “I’ll be up at 2, 3, 4 in the morning just to start painting.”

“Lucky for you, I keep late hours,” the older murmured, smiling. “So? Will you be mine?”

“Only if you’ll be mine,” Peter replied, a giddy smile on his face. He bit his bottom lip and chewed lightly.

Tony’s own smile grew and grew and he wrapped his arms around the young artist, kissing his cheek sweetly. The pair of brunets couldn’t help the big smiles on their faces, so big that their faces were starting to hurt.

-

Tony sighed softly as he came inside of the house and took his jacket off. He hung it up on the rack beside the front door and toed off his work boots as well. Peter hated when he tracked mud and blood into the house so shoes came off at the door.

He first went upstairs to their bedroom, placing his beloved pistol into the gun safe on the shelf and changing out of his clothes into something much more comfortable. And then he went looking for his beloved since he wasn’t in their bed.

This wasn’t uncommon - when Tony worked, Peter was up painting after a few hours of sleep. So he went down the hall to his lover’s studio and quietly opened the door. Usually Peter was standing and painting with one of his many, many brushes, but he found his soulmate on the floor, his legs splayed beside him.

He was using his short easel and his fingers were absolutely caked in the expensive paints the mob boss had bought him. So he was finger painting.

And the painting itself was-

Of Tony. A close-up portrait, in fact. He was looking somewhere off center and his gun was up and ready by his jaw, finger on the trigger. And there was a smear of blood on his cheek, as if he’d been splattered and half-heartedly tried to wipe it away. It was the best thing he’d ever seen and it was all done with his lover’s fingers.

His own two hands.

The younger brunet was deep into his concentration, still adding little details here and there with his pinky finger. All of his fingers were delicate, definitely fit for an artist, and they helped for pieces like this.

Tony walked over and knelt behind his younger lover, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the side of his neck in greeting. The brunet in his arms let out a content sigh and leaned back into his soulmate’s embrace. He turned his head to look at Tony and a tired smile made it’s way onto his face.

“Tones.”

“Petey-pie. You do such amazing work.”

Peter’s smile widened slightly and he turned back to his work, admiring it quietly. He laid his head back against the older man’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Tony could’ve sworn the other man could just fall asleep right there.

“Let’s get you to bed. Did you even sleep tonight?” Tony asked.

“Nope. Wasn’t tired,” Peter murmured, letting his lover haul him up onto his feet. The pair made their way out of the studio and into their bedroom down the hall, climbing into bed immediately and turning out the lights.

“Well we’re both tired now. Sweet dreams?”

“I hope not. I wanna see every single thing you did tonight,” Peter purred, curling up against Tony and laying his head on his lover’s broad chest. “I can almost smell the blood.”

“I’ve corrupted you,” the mob boss murmured, almost concerned.

“Nah, I was made for you. I love your work.”

“And I love yours.”

-

Most of the time, Tony tried to keep his work away from home. Especially now that Peter was in his life and in his bed, he wanted his job as far away from Peter as possible. Even if his lover knew exactly what he got up to at night - dreams were a bitch that way - he didn’t want to put his soulmate in danger.

But sometimes, shit didn’t always go according to plan.

It hadn’t taken long for word to get out about Anthony Carbonell’s young soulmate, a cute, little artist that made a pretty target for any enemies that wanted to get even. One such man was Quentin Beck and he’d put a hit out on the brunet.

Unfortunately for him, Bucky had caught the would-be assassin and tortured his employer out of him. So now, Beck sat in the basement of the mansion, tied to a chair that was placed over a drain.

Bucky and Steve stood guard on either side of the door behind the empty chair that sat in front of Beck. Anyone could tell that would be where Tony would be sitting to interrogate and/or torture.

Probably both, the man had put a hit out on the mob boss’s soulmate after all.

The door opened and Tony stepped inside. He was dressed in dark slacks and a red, button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The older man closed the door behind and walked over to a cart on the far side of the room, uncovering the various tools that were sat on top. He rolled the cart over before taking a seat in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“So nice of you to join me this evening, Mr. Beck. I’m glad you could clear your schedule,” Tony murmured calmly, pulling a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket. He slipped them onto his hands as he spoke.

“Didn’t really have a choice,” Beck grunted.

“Tsk, tsk. Did I ask you to speak? Very rude of you.”

Beck rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, too soft for Tony to actually hear.

“No manners I see. Oh well, you won’t be alive long enough for any lessons to really matter,” the older brunet said with a sigh. “This is how this will work. I’ll ask you questions I want the answers to and you’ll give me what I want. If you don’t, you get a punishment.”

“Aw, you gonna spank me? I bet you spank that twink of yours,” Beck taunted with another roll of his eyes. “You don’t scare me, Carbonell.”

“Let’s begin,” Tony said, ignoring Beck now. “Who told you about Peter?”

“Suck my dick.”

Tony tutted again and picked up a pair of pliers. He tested them out before using them to grip one of Beck’s nails and tear it off. He tossed the little piece aside and smiled at the other man’s scream. He grabbed the next nail and pulled lightly.

A threat.

“Who told you about Peter?” Tony asked again, ever patient.

“F-Fuck you!”

The elder sighed and tore off another nail. It went on like that for an hour and by then, Beck had run out of finger nails and they were halfway through his toenails. And yet Beck was still holding out somehow.

Behind him, the door opened and closed but Tony was still focused on getting the answers he wanted. He ripped off another nail and listened to Beck’s agony for a moment before tossing that nail aside as well.

“You’re running out of nails, Beck. Do you really wanna see what else I can do with all of these tools?” Tony asked, almost purring. There were a few little drops of blood splattered on his face from yanking the nails off. “Who told you about Peter?”

“St-Stane! It was Stane, jesus!” Beck wailed, heaving in breath after breath as he tried to deal with the pain.

“Good boy. How much did he pay you?”

“H-Half a mil. Just had to find someone to take ‘im out.”

“And where is Stane now?”

“Long I-Island,” Beck whimpered now.

Tony smiled and set the pliers to the side, taking off his gloves. He gently patted Beck’s cheek which made the other man flinch away from his touch. He turned around and froze when he saw Peter standing between Bucky and Steve. His boy’s cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were wide.

“Peter, baby, what’re you doing down here?”

“I wanted to see,” Peter admitted shyly, stepping into his older lover’s space and leaning up to kiss him soundly. “That was, um…”

“I’m sorry, honey, I never wanted you to see-”

“It was hot.”

Tony blanched and looked down at his soulmate with wide eyes, left totally speechless for probably the first time in his whole life. His boy was always so full of surprises and yet Tony was knocked off his feet every single time. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist and tugged him in so they were pressed flush together.

“You never cease to amaze me. Let’s talk about this upstairs where I can ravish you instead of scarring poor Bucky and Steve, hm?”

“Yes, daddy,” Peter purred with a sly grin. The older man groaned softly and hauled Peter up and out of the basement, leaving Bucky and Steve to clean up the mess.

Wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last.


End file.
